


crazy love

by shaykreth



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Close?, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Trespasser DLC, Trespasser Spoilers, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaykreth/pseuds/shaykreth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR TRESPASSER, specifically regarding Dorian and Iron Bull's endings.</p><p>“Everything’s fine.”</p><p>It’s become rote - one of the first things we say when we talk, because danger walks the alleys and the hallways where I stalk and Bull’s gotta fight whatever she points me at, you know how it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crazy love

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: Trespasser spoilers ahead! Please proceed with caution.
> 
> "Take away my trouble, take away my grief  
> Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief"
> 
> \- "Crazy Love" by Van Morrison

The days drag, hot and humid and salted by the sea. Hour after hour spent at the Magisterium, arguing and posturing, bribing and begging for the three steps forward that keep the four steps back from stinging quite as much.

Thank god for Maevaris. She is a life saver.

I am exhausted, and sweaty, a headache behind my eyes the only thing I can focus on when I close the door to my little Minrathous apartment. It is down the street from the Magisterium, an easy walk in a beautiful neighborhood. Maevaris is staying in the same building, for the time being; we both have our homes elsewhere, but while the Magisterium is in session we must be easy at hand.

This complex - compound, cult almost - is a favorite among the rest of the upper crust and it is so easy to rub elbows and shoulders well into the night, which is certainly part of the problem with my moods lately. I cannot get away from it. I cannot escape.

I pull my robes off as I stretch, arms above my head in slow motions that I hope will relieve some of the tension thrumming from my fingertips to my toes. The room is cooler than outside, cold water pushed through pipes in the walls, vents ushering air across the room in a soothing breeze.

Toe off the shoes, pull off the gloves, curl my toes in the carpet, _you stretch like a cat_ , I smile and tap the stone at my neck.

“Bull?”

It takes a few minutes and I am patient, _a patience I taught you_ , pulling the rest of the heavy robes of a Magister off and changing into a thin robe and pants, fabric breathing in the most lovely way. I cool a pack of stones and stretch out on one of the lounges, placing the pack against my forehead.

I can hear the sea.

“Hey, gimme a minute?”

There is static, a background noise of laughing and crackingly fires, I know he must be sitting with the Chargers, and they must be giving him a hard time now as he stands and leaves them to go to his tent, _really Chief? we just cracked open the barrel!_ and I smile.

“Heey,” he says a few minutes later and I close my eyes to hear every little nuance. “It’s early.”

“Good evening to you to,” I say, hearing the smile in his voice. “Everything’s fine.”

It’s become rote - one of the first things we say when we talk, because danger walks the alleys and the hallways where I stalk and Bull’s _gotta fight whatever she points me at, you know how it goes_.

“Everything’s fine,” he answers. “Still early for you though. Long day?”

“The longest,” I confirm. “I have a headache to end all headaches. It’s amazing how a few old men can give me a worse hangover than… well, just about anything.”

“How much longer ‘til the session ends?”

“Ah, another couple of weeks, then two off before we’re back through the winter.”

“Damn. That’s a lot of old men hangovers.”

“Would you mind not phrasing it like that?”

“Hey, you started it,” Bull was laughing at me and I was smiling and that laugh is like a panacea, for the heartache of being _here_ and not _there_.

“Amatus,” I say softly, “maybe I can visit with you during the break, hm? Aren’t you in Nevarra?”

“Yeah…”

“But?”

“But Kele’s got us moving. We’re nearly back into Orlais.”

“Ah. I see.” I can’t help but to sound a bit disappointed, it has been _months_ and I love the voice and the sound of him but the _feel_ and _solidness_ is what I need -

“I’m sorry, kadan.”

“As am I.”

“After winter, though, right? I’m meeting you at Qarinus, yeah?” Bull’s voice is gentle.

“Yes. Yes, at my family’s old home. I just… ah, amatus. It’s a long time, and I do hate waiting. The people here are just grating... ugh, and have I mentioned lately how bad Minrathous smells? It is horrendous.”

“You haven’t complained about it recently no, not in the last week at least.”

“I am clearly forgetting my duties! Well, allow me to regale you with stories of what an awful city Minrathous is.”

Bull laughs full, I am sure Krem is making fun of him for _laughing so loud at that Magister’s dirty stories_ ,  laughing loud enough to be heard clear across the camp. I regale him with tales of what I’ve stepped in and the wall of stench one can encounter about a mile away from the docks.

“You have managed to complain your way across half of Thedas at this point. Are you ever happy anywhere?”

“Hmmm, I would be quite happy back in the steamhouse at Skyhold…”

“Oh, the giant soaking tubs. Man. I miss those.”

“You and I both.”

“I miss you in those.”

“I am a sight to behold, it’s true.”

“Especially wet and hot…”

“Mmm, with soapy hair and those lovely oils you bought from Val Royeaux.”

“The cinnamon ones?” I hear the sound of Bull moving around his tent, the sound of him settling down and removing his harness and the brace on his leg. “Those are my favorites.”

“Yes, those. Mm, they made everything smell like pastries.”

“You included.”

“Ah, but I always smell sweet, my dearest Bull. The real improvement was on you.”

His voice drops a register as he hums. “I thought you enjoy the way I smell.”

“When you smell like cinnamon, yes.”

He sighs. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“That’s for the best. You don’t get much, hm?”

“Not with you all the way over in Minrathous I don’t.”

“But you did…” I trail off, leaving him the opening I know he will take.

“Mm, I did. Remember when you got back from taking out that dragon on the Storm Coast? You didn’t even stop for dinner, went straight to the baths and yelled at everyone until they left.”

“Big scary Magister, yes.”

“But you let me visit. Insisted, if I remember correctly.”

“And you do.”

His voice is soft but earnest. “I remember washing your hair, how you still smelled like that fight, like electricity and dragon’s blood. I rubbed your back, got all the knots out, and I was so _hard_. You smelled so good.”

He paused, I heard shifting, fabric and leather moving.

“Do go on,” I breathe.

“I remember holding you tight, back to chest and you wouldn’t stop wiggling until I was in you. Like you needed it as much as you needed anything.”

“I do.”

“Yeah. I know. I hold you ‘round the waist and one hand on your cock, you roll your hips against me, not even giving me a chance to fuck you, you just fuck yourself so slow and I don’t even want to move. I just let you. Do your thing. I know you need it. I know you miss me, miss this, miss us.”

“Ah-amatusss.”

“You hiss at me like a snake, like _that_ , because you arch and get it _just right_ and then I _finally_ get a chance to push up against you, fucking you slow as you are bent bow-tight, back curved away from me, you have your own hands in your hair, tugging because-”

“-because it feels-”

“- _so good_ , then you come and shudder and I come in you.”

He is panting. I am. We are, I can hear him and _almost feel him_. I squeeze my eyes shut, sullied hand still wrapped around my limp cock, loose but wanting so desperately for it to _not be my own fucking hand_. I will not cry tonight.

“Kadan?” he whispers to me.

“I’m here,” I say back. I can hear the tears in my own voice. _I am pathetic._

“I miss you.”

“I love you.” He says it like a prayer.

“I love you, too.” It _is_ a prayer.

“I’ll see you soon, though, yeah? Not much longer. I think we’ve been through worse. And I’m really looking forward to visiting Qarinus. Never been.”

“I can’t wait to see the scandalized look on the neighbors’ faces. What a lovely savage I’ve brought to my home.” I am trying hard to sound casual, but even I can hear it still, the _desperation_ that I don’t want to share, even when we both know it’s there.

Bull is quiet for a few moments. “Sleep, kadan.”

“Sleep is a good idea.”

“We’ll talk in the morning, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good night.”

“I love you, Dorian.”

“I know you do. I love you.” I want him to hear the sincerity, I want him to know that there is no greater truth for me in this world right now.

There is silence, and I know he is there, waiting, if I do need to talk, if I need more than this. But I am tired, and wipe my hand clean on a pillow before tossing it across the room and seeking sleep, where I will dream of him and this moment will be more real.

My headache is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Kele is Kelebek Adaar, my darling Inquisitor. Her parents wanted her to have a Ferelden-sounding name but weren't really sure how to spell "Kelly". She is as perky as the name implies.


End file.
